


playing with storms

by Anonymous



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Implied Future Character Death, M/M, unbalanced relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 02:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11348094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: ...and you would hate it if it weren’t for the fact that you love him so much you’re scared that your pusher will burst with it.





	playing with storms

You would say you’re playing with fire, but he’s more like a storm. Absolutely indomitable, fierce and powerful, and completely out of your league. He could wreck you like so many ships in a hurricane, and the both of you know it.

You think you might amuse him.

He tells you that you’re his little firebrand, his wonderful hellion, and you growl at him until he chuckles and pulls you close. He’s humoring you, and you would hate it if it weren’t for the fact that you love him so much you’re scared that your pusher will burst with it.

Sometimes you wait until he’s fallen asleep, until his breathing evens into something comforting and steady, almost a grumbling purr. Then you trace your fingertips across the ridges of his scars, the ones crossing his face and spanning his broad chest, keeping your touches feather light. You don’t want to wake him. If you woke him, he would let you, be amused by you. You don’t want him to  _let_  you.

Sometimes you just want to  _take_.

 

There are nights when you wonder if he’s actually as flushed for you as he claims. Because he dresses you up and takes you out, to show off his little mutant, like a trophy. He humors you, and you hate it. Sometimes you wonder if you’re not just a toy or a prize.

 

It takes you a few sweeps to come into your own. But by the time you reach adulthood, you can give him a run for his money in the strifeblock. He still wins, of course, but now he’s not giving. You can finally take.

Something’s worrying him, as of late.

 

One day, you half-wake, and find him stroking your skin delicately, tracing over your scars (it took you ages to accumulate them, and you were proud of each and every one) just as you used to map out his.  _I won’t take it well when you leave me_ , he murmurs, and your carefully constructed image of this troll shatters.  
  
You think he might love you.

**Author's Note:**

> now reread the summary.


End file.
